


sunsets and daydreams

by bonschai



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sunsets, author just really wanted to pretentiously describe colours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonschai/pseuds/bonschai
Summary: “You should describe it to me.”“Hm?” Dream responded.“Tell me what it’s like, what the colours really look like,” and the look on his face was sincere, he trusted Dream in that moment to show him the world.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 27





	sunsets and daydreams

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is honestly just my excuse to write pretty words, I hope you enjoy them <3

England was never usually renowned for its beautiful sunsets. Overcast clouds and constant rain? Maybe, but no one ever waxed lyrical about the beauty of England’s skies. The poetry that spoke so artfully of its colours and hues were saved for seas abroad where the sun shone down so lovingly on the lands beneath it. But in England the sun wasn’t so kind, she was shy and reserved, only blessing a rare appearance on days she was feeling benevolent, before returning back to hibernation once again.

That is why Dream was so surprised when he saw the sky before him. Gone was the threatening pale grey that promised nothing but cold and rain that he had come to expect, replaced with a vivid cerulean sky intersected by delicate pink clouds. He stared in wonder at the vast expanse, treasuring the bright hues as if they might disappear at any second. It might have been naive of him to be surprised by the weather, but after hearing endless hours of complaining about the dreary British weather for the past five years, Dream had begun to doubt that it could ever possibly be pleasant. 

He glanced to the man beside him who also stared out towards the steadily setting sun, unaware of the attention on him. George looked beautiful in that moment, the gentle glow of the sun reflecting off his dark brown hair, bringing out shades of chestnut and red that would usually be hidden. His skin seemed like it was almost glowing, the smile on his lips lighting his entire face up. In that moment, Dream thought, George seemed almost ethereal. 

The older was leant back on his elbows, carefree and relaxed, pleased to finally be in the company of the one he cherished so dearly. As they watched the sun slowly set and the sky darken before them, the pale rose clouds deepened into a richer shade of reds and oranges, the sky a fiery blaze that raged on before them.

If only George could see this right now Dream thought to himself. He felt almost sad for a moment, knowing that George would never be able to fully appreciate the sight before him. That where Dream saw a myriad of pinks and reds and oranges developing and changing, George would only see the mixture of yellows and blue. He vocalised this to George who turned towards him with a wistful smile upon his face, the longing for a more colourful world that he so rarely showed visible in his eyes. 

This was shortlived, however, as a sparkle appeared in his eye and a grin started to develop in a way that Dream knew meant he had an idea. “You should describe it to me”

“Hm?” Dream responded, curious.

“Tell me what it’s like, what the colours really look like,” and the look on his face was sincere, he trusted Dream in that moment to show him the world, to describe a little bit of the universe that so many took for granted. 

And for a moment Dream worried; how do you describe the complexity of colour to someone who has never experienced it? How do you convey the depth, the richness of each individual shade? As Dream stared, trying to come up with a way to describe something as momentous as colour itself, he thought of the emotion, the feeling that each colour evoked.

It had been a few minutes since either had spoken, George had assumed that Dream had ignored his request, so he jumped in subtle surprise when Dream started speaking.

“Orange” he started, then paused for a second, trying to muster up the exact right words to describe it “is like the warmth of a fire, with the vividness of yellow but so much richer and deeper.” It sounded stupid when he said it out loud but when he glanced over to look at George, he was staring back, enamoured. Dream couldn’t help but stare back for a second, admiring the curious look in his eyes, the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked. 

Turning back towards the sky, he continued. “And red, red is similar, but so much more dangerous. If orange is warmth then red is fiery heat, it’s raw emotion, anger and hatred but also love and pure passion. It’s almost oxymoronic.”

He glanced at the steadily fading pink clouds and licked his lips. “And pink is special, it feels almost vulnerable. It’s like the warmth of your cheeks when you blush, like the beat of your heart as you look at the one you love, like the gentle tenderness of a first love.” At this, he turned towards George again who was still looking at him, almost reverently. A gentle blush sat on his cheeks, not too dissimilar to what he just described. 

At that moment, Dream recognised the look upon his face as one of love, one he is sure was reflected directly back at George on his face. Nothing else in the world mattered then, not even the sun that had nearly disappeared over the horizon, only George. He wanted to write this moment down on paper, immortalise it forever so everyone would be able to appreciate the love and beauty that radiated from the man before him. But no words, not even the colours he tried to describe, could truly encapsulate what is only and uniquely George. 

Dream reminisced upon love stories of the past, of songs detailing devotion and affection, and thought to himself that not even they would be able to properly describe the emotions and feelings that George made him feel. 

For when Shakespeare said ‘shall I compare thee to a summer's day’, he never realised that nothing would compare to the sight that Dream held before him; a man so beautifully encapsulated by the world around him that his smile lit up the very depths of his soul. That despite the fact that he could never fully appreciate the beauty of the sky before him, he loved it unconditionally nonetheless. His joy radiated far brighter than the sun ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m kinda nervous to upload this and show it to the world. Its been a couple of years since I last wrote fanfic but dnf inspired me to start writing again so I hope its good enough. I’ve been suffering from very bad writer’s block for a while and I still do, but I have a lot of ideas that I want to develop and stories that I want to tell so I am hoping that I can write more soon. 
> 
> If you want to talk to me about my writing or just in general, follow me on [tumblr](https://purplegogy.tumblr.com/) :)


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